


Alec's Mishap

by Ghostem



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Dark, Domestic Violence, Drug Use, F/M, Family Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 08:04:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16133102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostem/pseuds/Ghostem
Summary: Alec's life spirals out of control as his relationship with Magnus begins to crumble.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alec's Mishap was originally uploaded two? three? years ago. I removed it from the site for a few reasons. I rediscovered it recently in a dusty corner of my laptop. I'm editing it, switching things around a little, adding a couple of new ideas and re-uploading one chapter at a time. I really appreciated all the love that Alec's Mishap received on our first outing and I really hope that y'all will enjoy it again now following its little spit polish. Any questions/comments/mysterious quests to be solved, just let me know. Peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As requested: TRIGGER WARNING-domestic violence, abuse. Alec's Mishap is very dark and develops into a black comedy. Magnus is not painted in a favourable light. This story has always been controversial and was very love/hate for readers when it was originally uploaded. If this isn't your jam, don't read it. 
> 
> Alec's Mishap was originally uploaded two? three? years ago. I removed it from the site for a few reasons. I rediscovered it recently in a dusty corner of my laptop. I'm editing it, switching things around a little, adding a couple of new ideas and re-uploading one chapter at a time. I really appreciated all the love that Alec's Mishap received on our first outing and I really hope that y'all will enjoy it again now following its little spit polish. Any questions/comments/mysterious quests to be solved, just let me know. Peace.

The apartment was beautiful. Dark stained hardwood floors. Tall windows that leaked the soft New York City sunlight onto the hand painted de Gournay wallpaper in creamy strips. A kitchen pulled from the pages of a glossy magazine, all granite countertops and polished steel. A bed that spread out like an ocean, cushiony waves of white Egyptian cotton rolling up to meet buoyant duck down pillows. A bathroom to get lost in, with a claw foot tub that could launch a ship.

Living here, in Magnus' apartment, made Alec feel special. Magnus made Alec feel special. As Alec wandered the quiet living room, running a finger absentmindedly over the picture frames displaying his and Magnus' smiling faces in Rome, Milan, Zagreb, he smiled too.

The front door snapped open, then shut. Alec heard Magnus' footsteps in the hall, the thump of his bag tossed onto the kitchen table, the click of the coffee machine. Same as always.  
  
And then Magnus was in the doorway, his grey eyes dewy, his impeccably cut suit shearing angles that Alec knew he would never tire of. He was smiling, drawing his cigarette case from an inside pocket of his suit jacket. The case flashed in the afternoon sunlight as he flicked it open, withdrew a menthol and placed it between his lips in a way that fondled Alec’s attention like it was a physical thing, filling his chest and squeezing his heart. The clipper sparked and smoke peppered the air, slightly sweet and vaguely choking. Magnus inhaled, exhaled, and the smoke funnelled from his mouth like a gauzy curtain.  
  
Alec stepped towards him, his bare feet fleeting on the hardwood. “I missed you,” he said softly.  
Magnus laughed. “I was only gone a few hours.” He was watching Alec like a predator might, unnerving, charged. He was a magnet, Magnus his opposite pole. For where Magnus was endlessly graceful, alluring, and sharply witty, Alec felt the constant press of anxiety and self doubt. Alec needed Magnus. Without him he was simply ordinary. With him, Alec felt invincible.  
  
Magnus's smile grew wider. He took a step forward, a cloud of smoke binding him like a shroud, and planted a gentle kiss on Alec’s lips.  
  
“I love you,” he said, the words final, absolute.  
  
Slowly, Alec pulled away from Magnus, a coy smile now playing at the corners of his mouth. He stepped lightly across the living room to retrieve a bottle of vermouth from the sideboard. He poured a glass for each of them, and offered one to Magnus, his brows quirked.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” Magnus's face fell as he bent to stub out his cigarette on the marble coffee table.

“Maybe.” Alec gulped his drink in a single mouthful, the alcohol burning his throat. He turned back towards Magnus, poised to speak, but Magnus had already loosed his own glass, whipping it at Alec’s head with a force that cut the smoke filled air.

It flew across the room, missing Alec by a hair before shattering against the wall. A spray of shards flared, and droplets of acrid alcohol wet the wall like tears. One shard ricocheted off the coffee table and slashed Alec’s cheek directly below his eye.  
  
Alec screamed. “My eye!”

Magnus tore his keys from his suit pocket and sliced the closest panel of wallpaper, as blood seeped through the fingers Alec held clamped to his injured face. “Fuck this fucking de Gournay.”  
  
“My eye,” whimpered Alec. Pain buzzed angrily across his face, fast and sharp.

Magnus stalked toward Alec, blocking his view of the room. “You can’t trick me.”

“I wasn’t try—”

“You can’t trick me,” Magnus spat. “I know you. I know what you’re doing. Don’t think I’m blind.”

“But I—”

“I see you.” Magnus turned on his heel and strode towards the bedroom. “Don’t follow me. You hear me?”

Alec gaped, his heart plugging his throat. What did—

“You hear me?” Magnus barked, and Alec squeaked back, “Yes. Yes. I do. Okay.”

The bedroom door slammed, so hard the art on the walls jumped. Blood dripped from between Alec’s trembling fingers, splattering softly against the floor. Shock pinned him down, a butterfly on a cork board, as through glazed eyes he watched the blood fall and spread across the dark wood, gleaming blackly in the glow of the late afternoon sun.  
  
Alec flitted back and forth, darting into the gaps of the remembered conversation. What— What just happened? He’d been good. He’d been what Magnus wanted. But he’d gotten so angry. And what now? He stirred into action, groping around for his phone. He dialled hastily and the line rang twice before Jace picked up.

“What, man?” Jace asked irritably. “I’m with Clary.”

“Somethi—My eye! I can’t, I nee—Help,” whimpered Alec. “Please.”

There was a pause, and then Jace sighed. “What’s wrong with your eye?”

“Glass. It was earlier and I—fell. And—” Alec felt faint as blood continued to dribble between his fingers.  
  
“Okay. You didn’t fall.” Jace cut him off. There was a long silence, which Alec’s heart filled with its audible thumping. “Fine. I’ll come by and pick you up.”  
  
The line died.

Alec snatched his keys and his wallet before stumbling from the apartment and out into the frigid late afternoon. Summer’s edges were frosting as fall crept in to take her place. The wind was biting, and Alec pulled his sweatshirt tight around his thin frame as he sank down onto the front steps, quaking uncontrollably. He waited for three bitter hours before Jace finally rolled up in his dented Peugeot. The constant throb in Alec’s cheek made his head swim as the small car screeched to a halt at the kerb.

“Where have you been?” cried Alec, yanking the passenger side door open and throwing himself into the car, a pale and shivering husk.

“I told you,” Jace replied, “I was with Clary. You’re lucky I’m here at all.”  
  
He threw the car into drive and pulled away from the sidewalk with a squeal of tires, the stench of burning rubber clouding the air.  
  
Anger simmered inside Alec, but he swallowed it down. Weren’t they supposed to be friends? “Can you drive me to the emergency room?”

Jace sighed heavily, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “Alec… You really need to sort this shit out, man. It’s toxic. You know how we all feel about Magnus. I almost didn’t—”  
  
Jace cut himself off, loosing another long sigh.  
  
Alec kept silent as the car sped on, the long evening shadows sketching ribbons across his fragmented face.  
  
Toxic.  
  
He didn’t want it to be true. The lush apartment played across Alec’s mind, the world he had been given the key to. The events, the suits, the wealth. And Magnus. Alluring, disorienting Magnus. Because every time he hurt Alec, every black eye, every cigarette burn, every knife to the thigh was delivered so coldly, so callously. But afterwards? Afterwards they had whispered their love for one another. Magnus's gentle touches still echoed across Alec’s skin, fingertips spelling out a caressed apology. Memories of his voice, his smile, still brought a skip to Alec’s heart. And maybe, sometimes love had to hurt.

They arrived at the hospital, where Jace pulled into an ambulance bay and leaned across Alec. He fumbled with the catch on the passenger side door. “Get out. Don’t call me.”  
  
When the door sprung open, Jace unclipped Alec’s seatbelt and bodily shoved him from the car. He stomped on the gas pedal and screeched out of the hospital parking lot with the passenger door still flapping free in the wind like some great metallic wing.  
  
Alec lay on his back, soaking up the chill of the asphalt. He squinted through the incoming sunset, watercolour smears of effervescent orange bleeding into a band of violent pink. Alec wished that someone would pull the plug on New York City and that the night sky, unencumbered, would blaze with stars. He had always considered the stars a reminder—a reminder that he was nothing more, really, than a single fleck of ash on the wind when compared to the vastness and mystery of the universe, this cosmic curtain that draped above them all.  
  
Some people are frightened when confronted with their relative triviality: to be naught but a single dust mote is disquieting. But for Alec, this was a comforting notion: that there was endlessly more to the universe than the abandonment, hurt, and confusion that loomed over him, blotting out the starlight and blinding him to the path ahead.

To the whine of the automatic ER door sliding open and shut, he breathed, “Fuck.”  
Finally, he heaved himself upright and stumbled inside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As requested: TRIGGER WARNING-domestic violence, abuse. Alec's Mishap is very dark and develops into a black comedy. Magnus is not painted in a favourable light. This story has always been controversial and was very love/hate for readers when it was originally uploaded. If this isn't your jam, don't read it.
> 
> Alec's Mishap was originally uploaded two? three? years ago. I removed it from the site for a few reasons. I rediscovered it recently in a dusty corner of my laptop. I'm editing it, switching things around a little, adding a couple of new ideas and re-uploading one chapter at a time. I really appreciated all the love that Alec's Mishap received on our first outing and I really hope that y'all will enjoy it again now following its little spit polish. Any questions/comments/mysterious quests to be solved, just let me know. Peace.

Hours later, Alec emerged into the harsh morning light, squinting at the cars that flashed past as if this were an ordinary day. But this day couldn’t be ordinary; he felt as though he were airing some murky secret, his cheek bulky with two stitches, a cotton dressing taped in place. He dragged himself across the parking lot to the bus stop, misery weighing heavy on his narrow shoulders.  
  
As the bus groaned and lurched across the city, Alec curled up in his sour-smelling seat, his forehead pressed against the glass, staring vacantly as the city rumbled by outside, dirty and crowded but home. The thought of returning to Magnus twisted Alec’s stomach. This was nothing new; walking back into that apartment with a stitched, taped, medicated wound was routine. But still, each time it was as bitter as a dry swallowed pill. How to act, where to put his hands, to catch an eye or not. To talk, or to stay silent and accepting. Alec sighed, the glass fogging beneath his lips, obscuring his view, painting the scene outside a muted grey to mirror his mood.

  
As the bus ground to a halt at the stop outside Magnus's apartment block, Alec steeled himself for the awkward reunion ahead. He stepped off onto the kerb and peered up towards the third floor. He could see a figure standing at the rail of Magnus' balcony. His heart threw itself against the bars of its cage as he recognised that figure even from this distance. There was something about the set of Magnus' shoulders, his rod-straight back, the tension radiating from him in tangible waves, that told Alec he wasn’t pleased.  
  
Magnus buzzed him up immediately.  
  
“What are you doing here?” Magnus slouched against his open doorway, arms folded, watching as Alec heaved himself up the last few steps to the front door. His brows were knitted as he took in Alec’s exhaustion, his crumpled clothes, his injured face.

“I…” Alec could find no words to unknot the chaotic web of contradictions he felt for Magnus. In truth, he didn’t know why he had come back. He loved Magnus. He knew that in his heart, but his cheek burned angrily and his head felt heavy and lolling. Why did he keep coming back? As he turned over the stones in his mind, he discovered that the gaps beneath them were hollow. Reason, beyond the love he clutched tight, escaped him. Returning to Magnus had simply become a reflex, as natural and immediate as yanking a hand from a hot stove.  
  
Alec knew then that he had nowhere else to go. Wrapping himself up in Magnus had pushed everyone else away. Their love was a shield against the world, but it had grown heavy. While Alec had been nurturing their complex relationship, he had allowed all others to die on the vine.  
  
“I wanted to see you,” whispered Alec, after the long silence.

Magnus grunted, noncommittal, retreating back into his apartment, leaving the door wide for Alec to follow. Alec entered the hallway, clicking the door closed behind him. He dragged his exhausted frame into the living room where he collapsed on the leather couch, every muscle in his body aching.  
  
“Do you want a drink?” Magnus called through from the kitchen.  
  
“It’s nine o'clock in the morning,” replied Alec, carefully controlling his words.  
  
Magnus appeared in the living room doorway and eyed Alec suspiciously. “That’s never stopped you before.”  
  
Alec shifted slightly, and said, half a whisper, “I don’t want a drink.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Nothing. I don’t—” Alec shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Whatever.” Magnus retreated back into the kitchen, and Alec sighed, rolling over on the couch, his cheek throbbing angrily.  
  
Did Alec want a drink? Perhaps that was the problem. He didn’t know what he wanted at all.

Alec sighed, draping an arm over his injured face like a child. The room spun slightly around him. He lay at the centre of an unnervingly shifting universe and he didn’t know how to stop it, how to get off. All he knew in that moment was that he needed to sleep.

The next thing Alec knew he was being shaken roughly awake, hands grasping his narrow shoulders. “Alec!” hissed Magnus, “Get up!” Alec cracked opened his gummy eyes. Magnus loomed over him, eclipsing the room beyond, his eyes piercing Alec as if he could peer into his fraught and splintered soul. Magnus was made up as if he were hosting a party. It must be something fancy as he had coloured his hair a bright, vivid blue woven through with what looked like diamonds.

“Get up, Alec!” insisted Magnus, shaking Alec again more insistently. “You can’t be here! People are coming over!”

Before Alec could protest, Magnus had bodily lifted him from the couch and was half dragging, half carrying him towards the front door of the apartment. Faint but growing louder by the second, Alec could hear voices in the hallway, laughing and yelling, buzzing in animated layers; voices that sounded hazy with alcohol.

Magnus wrenched open the door and shoved Alec out, slamming it behind him. As Alec stood there, groggy and hurt, a group of lavishly dressed young men appeared at the top of the steps, jostling playfully and giggling noisily. Their laughter abruptly cut off when they spotted Alec standing there, his bandaged cheek stark as a brand, dark hair rumpled. They stared at him for a moment and then burst into a fresh wave of raucous laughter before knocking hard on Magnus’ door, behind which the sound of booming music could now be heard, the whole apartment vibrating with the leaden notes of a heavy bass.

Alec turned and started his slow descent down the stairwell. This had not been a good day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As requested: TRIGGER WARNING-domestic violence, abuse. Alec's Mishap is very dark and develops into a black comedy. Magnus is not painted in a favourable light. This story has always been controversial and was very love/hate for readers when it was originally uploaded. If this isn't your jam, don't read it.
> 
> Alec's Mishap was originally uploaded two? three? years ago. I removed it from the site for a few reasons. I rediscovered it recently in a dusty corner of my laptop. I'm editing it, switching things around a little, adding a couple of new ideas and re-uploading one chapter at a time. I really appreciated all the love that Alec's Mishap received on our first outing and I really hope that y'all will enjoy it again now following its little spit polish. Any questions/comments/mysterious quests to be solved, just let me know. Peace.

A couple of hours later Alec found himself on the steps of the Institute. The building rose up before him into the falling darkness, uninviting and foreboding in the chilled evening air. Alec shivered, his stomach writhing. This was the last place we wanted to be. When Alec was last at the Institute, Isabel had been efficient and ruthless in showing him the door.

His heart thundering in his chest, Alec climbed the rest of the way up the steps and approached the heavy front door, fear nestling in his heart. He did not expect a warm welcome. Just a bed for the night, maybe a little brandy. Haltingly, he slammed the heavy iron knocker against the oak wood of the door and heard the sound reverberate through the cavernous entrance hall. The gnawing in his stomach grew more pronounced as he waited, his heart fluttering, palms slick with sweat.

The door creaked open ominously to reveal Church standing there on stout ginger legs, his copious fluff creating a halo around the little cat against the back drop of the warm light leaking from the gas lamps of the entrance hall. The chubby orange cat peered up at Alec, mild curiosity in his enormous yellow eyes. With a vaguely bored meow, Church turned and trotted away. Alec followed meekly in his wake through the vast entryway towards the snug kitchen tucked away beneath the sweeping staircase at the end of the corridor.

Alec hesitated at the door to the kitchen. He could hear Isabelle and Clary laughing softly inside, their chattering voices competing with the fire crackling and snapping in the grate. He didn’t know what they would say to see him standing there. But he also didn’t know where else to go.

Finally, his heart pounding in his chest, he pushed open the door and stood framed in the doorway, suddenly bathed in the warm yellow, glow of the cheerfully dancing fire. Isabelle and Clary sat at the long wooden table that filled the centre of the room. Jace sat perched on a barstool in the corner, eyeing Alec with a cold curiosity and abject loathing.

After a pause, shock simultaneously registering on the faces of both Isabelle and Clary, Isabelle rose and started towards Alec, her lovely features creasing in disgust. “Alec, what are you doing here? And what happened to your eye?”

Alec sighed. “I had nowhere else to go,” he mumbled, staring down at his hands knotted in front of him. “And Magnus happened to my eye.” He hung his aching head.

“Alec,” began Isabelle, bell-like tones taut with pain. “We asked you to leave and never return. And we meant it.”

A thick silence descended on the kitchen pierced only by the soft crackling of the fire and the steady bubbling of the pot sitting on the range against the far wall.

“I—“ Alec’s voice broke. He didn't know what to say. He stared down at his shoes, unable to meet Isabelle’s eyes. He didn’t know what to do with his hands which found themselves agitatedly raking through his shock of black hair. Alec had known what he did to Isabelle was unforgivable. But to be disowned? Disavowed by his own sister? In that moment, he felt lost and so utterly alone that the terror washing over him in white hot waves threatened to devour him entirely. When eventually he glanced up, Isabelle was shaking her head.

“Alec,” she repeated. “I don’t know… I can’t…” She turned away, breathing heavily, her thin shoulders shaking with emotion.

Alec took a step towards her. He needed to comfort her, to apologise, to atone for his sins. It was then that Jace sprang into action, slamming Alec up against the doorframe. He grabbed ahold of Alec’s shirt collar and hauled Alec from the room with a frightening ferocity. “You’re not welcome here, Alec!” Jace snarled, teeth bared, face bone white with rage. “Why don’t you go back to your lover? He’ll have a warm bed waiting for you!” He shoved Alec hard again, muscles trembling with exertion and unadulterated fury. Alec stumbled, his sneakers screeching on the flagstones.

Alec shook his head sadly. “I didn't come here to fight Jace,” he said placatingly. “I want to apologise.”

“Kicked you out, has he? Found a new toy?” Jace was seething, his jaw tight, eyes ablaze. “You can’t just stroll back in here after what you did and expect to be welcomed with open arms. You’re scum, Alec. You’re a junkie, you’re scum!” Jace was trembling now, fists clenched. A single bead of sweat slid down his creased forehead.

On unsteady legs, Alec backed up against the stone wall opposite the kitchen door and slid down it to the floor, burying his face in his arms. Tears of sorrow, of regret, of remorse filmed his eyes and spilled over onto his pale sunken cheeks, wetting the gauze still taped there. He felt suddenly as though he were drowning, hopelessly flooded in this prison of his own making. Isabelle had locked him out, Clary seemed unable even to look at him, and Jace? Alec knew Jace was right; Jace was always right. He seemed to know Alec better than Alec knew himself. He didn't know what to say, how to explain that he never meant to hurt them, that he should have listened. And now he was trapped. He had trusted Magnus. He had willingly held out his wrists as Magnus clamped shut the fetters, and now that decision was looking murkier and murkier with each painful passing day.

Magnus used Alec as a puppet. Alec knew this was the truth. The truth that he desperately tried to shield himself from. Magnus toyed with him and, like a rag-doll, Alec submitted every time. Was there truly love between them? Alec had thought so, had desperately wanted there to be. But sitting here now, looking at the horror and the hatred painted across the faces of his sister and his friends, his certainty drained away leaving him empty and desperately afraid.

“Alec!” Clary barked, lurching suddenly to her feet. “Get up!”

Alec, jolted from his reverie and rose shakily to his feet. “Please,” he whispered, “Can’t I stay one night?” He knew he was begging, but with his dignity nothing more than a dot on the horizon, he felt he had no shame left to lose. “I have nothing anymore.” He directed this at Isabelle who’s face hardened into a cold mask of contempt.

“And who’s fault is that, Alec?” she snapped, her voice trembling with indignation. “We tried. We waited for you, we loved you, and you threw it back in our faces!” Tears had begun to slide down her long pinched cheeks. Alec noticed that Isabelle had lost weight, strain showing in her thin shoulders, her hollow cheeks.

Alec felt a tsunami of guilt crash into him, the overwhelming wave filling his mouth, his nose. He couldn’t breathe through the pain of what he had done to his sister. He wished that he could take it all back. He wished that he could erase this part of himself that Magnus Bane had released, cram it into a lockbox, and toss it into the ocean, sink all the hurt and the pain he had caused. He drew himself up and looked into Isabelle’s blue eyes, bright with tears. “I’m sorry, Isabelle. I made an unforgivable mistake.” His shoulders sagged beneath the weight of his shame. “It’s the drinking. All the fucking drinking. It makes me—“

Isabelle cut him off. “Oh, please!” she shouted, her rage boiling over. “There’s no way all this is caused by your drinking. I’ve looked into Magnus’ eyes, I’ve looked into your eyes when you're with him! I don’t even recognise you when you’re at his side!” She screamed, all her pent up rage escaping in a shriek of frustration and contempt. “Look at what you allow him to do to you!” She pointed a shaking finger at Alec’s bandaged cheek. “Look at you—how can you continue to call yourself a Shadowhunter?” She paused, her breaths coming in heavy gasps as she struggled to contain her sobs. Her eyes, still filmed with unshed tears, burned with an intensity that had Alec cringing away in fear and humiliation. He didn’t know how to explain what had really happened, how to apologise in a way that would sound sincere when Isabelle had so clearly already decided what kind of a man Alec had become.

Alec knew then that it was time to leave. As he turned away, his heart became a lump of granite inside his aching chest. He needed something to erase this horrific day, to scrub clean these memories.

His friends were right. It was more than alcohol that had Alec in its clutches. Magnus was the hunter and Alec was ensnared.

He stumbled along the hallway, away from the bright kitchen, his friends’ ire propelling him back down the dark passageway. He paused for a moment in the vast entrance hall, squinting up at the great ceiling overhead. He sniffed and wiped his eyes with the back of a shaking hand. Was this the last time he would see the Institute? His gut told him yes, that this time he had gone too far. He had grasped Magnus’ hand willingly, followed him down a route lined with candy. But now that the road had revealed itself to be paved with nothing but despair, misery and hours lost to a dark unconsciousness, he wanted off. If only he knew how.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos guys! I wasn't expecting so many views either after only three chapters in. Enjoy chapter four, don't be shy to let me know what you think in the comments :) 
> 
>  
> 
> As requested: TRIGGER WARNING-domestic violence, abuse. Alec's Mishap is very dark and develops into a black comedy. Magnus is not painted in a favourable light. This story has always been controversial and was very love/hate for readers when it was originally uploaded. If this isn't your jam, don't read it.
> 
> Alec's Mishap was originally uploaded two? three? years ago. I removed it from the site for a few reasons. I rediscovered it recently in a dusty corner of my laptop. I'm editing it, switching things around a little, adding a couple of new ideas and re-uploading one chapter at a time. I really appreciated all the love that Alec's Mishap received on our first outing and I really hope that y'all will enjoy it again now following its little spit polish. Any questions/comments/mysterious quests to be solved, just let me know. Peace.

Alec trudged down the front steps of the Institute, pausing in the iron gateway. Clutching his thin jacket to his equally thin frame, he cast around, squinting against the chill wind that rushed into his pinched face and caught at his dark hair. What did he have to lose? His heart started pounding anew as he thought about what he was planning to do. After everything that Jace and Isabelle had said… But no. He would rather forget this day, slip into oblivion, sink down into that warm darkness where none of them, not even Magnus, could further wound his battered heart.

Alec began to walk slowly down the dark street, the street lamps throwing strips of soft yellow into his path. A gentle rain had begun to fall, flecking Alec’s pitch hair with drops as bright as jewels. As Alec wandered, head down, shoulders rounded, hands stuffed in pockets, he found himself heading towards the subway station. Unaware, his feet made their own path. A familiar path. His thoughts rushed and tumbled, pouring through his fractured mind as he descended the subway steps: He was useless. He had let everyone down. He was alone now. Why try?

As the gloom of the stairwell gave way to the harsh fluorescent light of the subway station, Alec searched the milling crowd, looking for that well worn face; the face that would bring him some relief.

And then there he was, crouched in a corner peering up at the passers-by with suspicion. A slight lupine hint to the set of his eyes, the corners of his mouth turned up in a strangely wolfish expression.

Luke Garroway spotted Alec and leapt to his feet, rushing towards him full of warm welcome. He reached out to grasp Alec’s hand, elbowing commuters aside in his rush to embrace him.

“Alec! Wonderful to see you!” Luke eyes twinkled behind his wire-rimmed glasses, though Alec could detect a hint of longing desperation beneath his pleasure at seeing his old friend.

Alec was not fooled. He knew that behind this friendly facade, Luke’s interests were firmly rooted in greed. He needed Alec’s money. Theirs was not a friendship but a business relationship, based on necessity.

Luke’s life had collapsed in recent months, and was now worth little more than a handful of ashes on the wind. Alec was sorry that Clary had had to witness her step-father’s fall from grace. The werewolf, once so full of an enviable sense of moral righteousness, had been reduced to pedalling drugs in a subway station after a vicious attack by a rival werewolf pack had left Luke with a missing hand and half his head gruesomely torn away obliterating his memory, exacerbating a foul temper, and changing his personality beyond recognition. This was not the Luke who had adored Clary like his own, who had admired her art, who had loved and cared for Clary’s mother. Fearing the worst, Jocelyn had been forced to ask Luke to leave, afraid for the safety of herself and her daughter. And now here he was, grinning maniacally, smelling sourly of old sweat and dried blood as he ringed Alec’s hand eagerly.

Alec cringed away slightly, forcing a smile onto his own face. He was wary of Luke, and repulsed by the smell. His writhing gut told him to leave, but his heart slammed against his ribs at the thought of what Luke provided. Alec ignored his gut.

“D-Did you s-see her?” stammered Luke, shaking slightly as he stared, unblinking into Alec’s wide eyes. “D-Did y-you see my C-Clary?” The wretched man looked hopefully at Alec as Alec stared back, transfixed by Luke’s dented and ruined face, the scarred ring of teeth marks where the werewolf’s jaws had clamped over his head clearly visible.

“Yes. I saw her,” replied Alec quietly, uncertain where this conversation might lead. Luke had become unnervingly unpredictable since the attack.

“D-Did she ask f-for me?” stuttered Luke, spraying tacky spit into Alec’s face. Alec fought the urge to turn away, to swipe a hand across this cheek to clean the filth away. He need Luke, and he needed him to cooperate.

“Yes,” he lied, “she asked for you. I told her how much you miss her. She misses you too.”

Luke beamed with happiness as he nodded and shook Alec’s hand more vigorously, his whole crooked body seemingly vibrating with joy. “I’m so h-happy,” he gushed, spraying spit once again. “S-So v-very h-happy.” He turned away, releasing Alec’s hand. Alec hastily wiped his hand on his jeans as the werewolf hobbled back to his corner to retrieve a package he had left lying there. He returned clutching a paper bag in his remaining hand, still smiling faintly to himself, now humming absentmindedly.

Alec wanted this to be over. The smell of old sweat and urine emanating from the werewolf was threatening to overpower him. He felt an enormous swell of pity for Luke, broken beyond repair. But he knew there was nothing he could do to put this right. The only way he could offer some semblance of help was to support a local business, and buy from him. He felt a sharp stab of guilt. Buying meth from this twisted creature wasn't truly benefitting either of them. But Alec wanted a reason then, an excuse. He knew he would regret this choice, he always did—vaguely. But he needed it to be okay. He needed a way to validate this.

Alec shook his head to clear his thoughts as Luke proffered a trembling hand, offering Alec a small clear bag of brightly blue crystals. Alec snatched the bag, stowing it hastily inside his coat. He offered Luke a tight smile as the man looked up at him, awaiting payment. Alec pulled a handful of crumpled bills from the pocket of his jeans, stuffing all of them into Luke’s outstretched hand. Luke nodded at Alec, licking his lips with a pointed tongue, allowing Alec a glimpse of the razor sharp canines barely contained inside his stinking mouth. Alec noted with concern that Luke was becoming more wolf-like, less human, with each transformation and he shivered involuntarily.

With a final nod, Alec turned and walked briskly from the subway station. He was cold though to his bones as he tripped up the steps and out into the freezing night air. He clutched the bag of meth beneath his coat, afraid to slacken his grip on his prize. His cold fingers trembled as turned left at street level, paranoia tailing him as he shouldered his way through a group of evening revellers. No-one could know what he held concealed against his hammering heart. All he wanted was to find a corner to curl up in and put this knotted mess of a day behind him.

Before he knew where his feet were carrying him he found himself back on the street outside the towering Institute. Standing miserably in the iron gateway, he was unaware of how he had gotten here. This was no longer his home. He had been cast out.

But with the bag of meth burning a hole in his inside pocket, he didn't care that he was no longer welcome inside. He stumbled up the gravel path his sneakers slipping on the sharp stones. Instead of approaching the tall, formidable front doors he turned and retreated around the side of the building to where the dumpsters were stored, shrouded in black shadows, at the back entrance.

Clumsily, his breathing ragged, Alec dragged a large piece of cardboard from the recycling and laid it behind the dumpster, tears suddenly wetting his cheeks again as silent sobs racked his body. He pulled the bag of meth from his coat with shaking hands and, leaning up against the icy cold stone wall of the Institute, slid to the ground. Alec knew he had reached rock bottom. But was this it? Or had he further to go? As he opened the bag he gasped with emotion. If there was lower to go, he was suddenly afraid that he wouldn’t survive it.


End file.
